


A Series of Extraordinary Occurrences

by buttphan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Inspired by Paper Towns, M/M, adventure-esque, teen-angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7934272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttphan/pseuds/buttphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan Howell is the poster child for perfection. Phil Lester is the epitome of ordinary. After six years of not speaking to each other, these two boys go on a mission to defy other people’s perceptions of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Series of Extraordinary Occurrences

Phil Lester lived his last few months of sixth form like he had the rest of his life: his mornings consisted of watery coffee and overcooked microwave pastries, his school-day was made up of cowering in the back of classes in hopes that he wouldn’t be called on, and his afternoons were spent volunteering at the animal clinic next door while simultaneously trying to catch up with schoolwork. Phil was okay with the fact that things were this way, although he wouldn’t mind if something out-of-the-ordinary were to happen before he was off to Uni in the next few months.

After chugging his mildly unpleasant coffee and chewing the poor excuse for a pastry like he did every morning, Phil rushed out the front door with a quick “bye Mum!” and jogged to sixth form after realizing he was running late. Extraordinary Occurrence Number One.

First period: same as usual. Second period: still the same. Third period: that’s when the rumors started.

“Yo, Fletch, did'ya hear? Howell’s not in today.”

“Darlene told me that Dan skipped first period, but I thought he’d be back by now. I didn’t see him in my last class.”

“Darren – dude, get off Tumblr, man – Howell ain’t in school today.”

Dan Howell. Star football player, part-time pianist prodigy. He had a GPA of 4.9 and the face of an angel sculpted by Venus herself. The poster-child for perfection.

And, he also happened to be Phil Lester’s childhood best friend.

They hadn’t talked in ages, of course. Dan began to drift away in the first few months of secondary school, spending more time on his coursework and composing music. He joined the school football team in year seven, and that was the last time the two of them had a proper conversation.

“We don’t talk anymore,” Phil had said, ginger fringe falling into his nebula eyes.

“I know.” His gaze didn’t meet Phil’s.

Phil stared at the boy with a lonely longing, connecting the sun-kissed freckles in his mind like constellations. Dan toyed with the over-sized crimson jersey he was wearing over his uniform.

“I miss hanging out with you, Danny,” Phil confessed, his burning cheeks sheathed with the mask of multiple summertime sunburns. “Who else is gonna have Pokemon: Indigo League marathons with me?”

“Lester …” He looked up at his friend, summer sky meeting barren earth. “Phil. I … I’ve been so busy. I’ve got practice every night, and Mum’s got me on the piano like I’m her show-dog. I don’t even have time to eat anymore …” He took a sharp breath, the dark circles under his eyes visible in the searing sun. “I’m sorry.”

The mysterious disappearance of Dan Howell: Extraordinary Occurrence Number Two.

The lunch bell rang, causing Phil to jump up and throw his bag over his shoulder. He weaved through the cafeteria-bound crowd, attempting not to be squashed by the mosh-like wave of teenagers around him as he hastily turned the knob of his graffitied locker. Grabbing his books from the shelf that was almost too high for his short arms to reach, Phil noticed something fall from his locker to the ground. 

Reaching to pick it up, he unfolded the lined parchment and attempted to decipher the messy scrawl.

Meet me outside your house at midnight. Bring a torch. (And, if you smoke, cigarettes would be nice.)  
-djh

Extraordinary Occurrence Number Three.

—

Phil checked his watch for the fifth time in twenty seconds. It still read 11:53. So many questions had been running through his mind since lunch. Why would Dan want to meet me after all these years? Why wasn’t he in school today? Why is he being so mysterious? And the most pressing question: Does Daniel James Howell, Mr Perfect, really smoke cigarettes?

There was a knock on Phil’s window, and he felt himself physically jump from his bed. He walked over, unlocking the old thing and craning his neck out so he could see below him.

Under the skeleton of a cherry tree stood Dan, hair messy with curls and brown eyes with a gleam Phil hadn’t seen since primary school.

“Lester, there you are. Didn’t I write ‘meet me outside of your house’?” he said, a giddy smirk revealing chasm-esque dimples in his cheeks.

“To be honest, I half-thought this was a prank.” Phil felt something bubble up in his chest. Nostalgia? No, it was deeper than that. More intimate.

“Do you have the time?”

Phil glanced at his watch. “Five to midnight.”

“We better hurry.” Dan threw a black rucksack over his left shoulder. “You can drive, yeah?”

Phil nodded warily.

“Good. Grab your keys and get outside, it’s nippy out here.”

Phil spun the key ring in his fingers, a worried expression chiseled into his features. Phil had never sneaked out before. He didn’t think his parents would react calmly if they knew he was driving around London in the middle of the night with Dan Howell. But then he remembered how little time he had left to just be a normal teenager, and began tiptoeing down the stairs and out the front door, careful not to make a sound.

“Took you long enough, Lester. I’m bloody frozen.” Dan reached out his hand and held it against Phil’s face. He jumped at the drastic change in temperature.

Keeping his headlights off, Phil backed out of the driveway, cautious not to get himself in an accident before their adventure ever started. Dan cranked up the temperature to full heat, and Phil’s busted-up Buick groaned in retort.

“Be careful,” he hissed, turning it back down to a reasonable setting. “She’s old and cranky. You don’t want to upset her.”

“God, the biggest turn-off ever is when blokes personify their cars.” Dan scoffed, bringing the sun visor down and checking his fringe. It was unkempt and curly; so unlike what Phil was used to seeing in the hallway or on social media.

“Why can’t you drive yourself to wherever we’re going?” Phil questioned, keeping his foot hovering above the brakes.

“I told my mum off last night,” he confessed, holding his hands up to the stale air that was wheezing from the dashboard. “She took away my phone, my car, even my bloody cigarettes.” He huffed, blowing a piece of his curled fringe from his eye momentarily.

“Oh.” Phil threw the silver pack from his coat pocket onto the seat between them. “They’re not mine. I stole them from my dad.”

“Ooh,” Dan said, his tone dripping with excitement. “Do you steal his stuff often?”

Phil laughed and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Enough. Alright, so where am I going, exactly?”

“Uhh, turn left here, and go straight until we reach Hettienne Park.”

“You’re taking me on a trip to go to the playground?” Phil said incredulously, glancing at Dan’s muddy eyes.

“Yes. But this is only our first stop.” He stuffed his hands from his pockets. “I need to talk to you.”

“Why can’t we talk in the car?”

Dan took a deep breath, the corners of his lips upturning into a smile. “Do you remember the day we met?”

Phil smirked, but kept his eyes glued to the road in front of him. “Of course. You were a cheeky little shit, as usual.”

“You see,” he said, kicking off his trainers and resting his sock-clad feet on the dashboard. “I remember it so clearly. Mum brought me to Hettienne because she had no idea what else to do with me. She told me, 'Daniel, go make some friends.’ So I did. I befriended Janine, Samuel, Darren … all those pricks from school. But then there was you. This little scrawny kid with glasses twice the size of your face, with mousy red hair and skin paler than snow. And all those pricks from school, they came up to you while you read some Harry Potter book and they started making fun of you. I felt so bad, because my brothers picked on me like that, and so did my mom. So, I just plopped myself in the swing next to you and started a conversation.”

“'Hey, I like your shirt. Do you watch Pokemon?’” Phil recalled, a nostalgic smile tickling his lips.

“Ah, the best ice breaker.”

Phil pulled into the car park next to the playground.

“Now what?” But Dan had already got out of the car. He opened the driver’s side door, holding his hand as if he were asking Phil to dance. He raised his eyebrow in response.

“C'mon, Lester. Aren’t you up for an adventure?”

Hesitant, Phil placed his palm above Dan’s. He intertwined their fingers together and pulled Phil from his seat onto the dew-soaked earth. Dan led him along the wire fence until they reached an opening. Dan held up the broken wire, a smirk playing on his lips.

“M'lady,” he teased, holding his arm out in front of him. He made a gesture like he was tipping an invisible hat. Phil couldn’t help himself as the back of his hand collided with Dan’s shoulder.

“I literally hate you so much.”

They reached a set of swing sets, and Phil felt another wave of nostalgia crash onto him.

“This place hasn’t changed at all,” Phil muttered, sitting in the black seat labelled “your ass here”.

The two boys sat in silence, pretending they weren’t waiting for the other to say something.

“So,” Phil murmured, attempting to break the silence. “You said you wanted to talk.”

“Yeah,” he said, kicking at wood shavings with his trainers. “Okay.” He looked over at Phil. “When you hear my name, when you see my face, when you think about me …” He took a deep breath, as if to compose himself. “What’s the first thing you think of?”

A chuckle passed through Phil’s chapped lips. “Oh, I dunno. 'Dan, the poster-child for perfection’.”

“See? That’s it!” Phil jump at the abrupt declaration. “I’m not perfect. I’m not. I’m just Dan. I smoke cigarettes like it’s oxygen, I don’t refill the toilet paper when it’s run out, I sometimes forget to say 'please’ and 'thank you’.” He sighed, running a hand through his messy mane. “That’s what tonight’s about, Phil. Tonight’s about showing the world that I’m not 'Perfect Dan’. Tonight’s about introducing Dan Howell, the boy with more flaws than words could provide.”

Phil smirked, his eyes locked onto his black trainers. “You called me Phil.”

Dan smirked, his signature dimples reappearing. “I know.”

The boys continued swinging, their thrusts bringing them higher and higher. If Phil was still a kid, he would’ve sworn he was going high enough to touch a cloud, or even one of the thousands of stars hiding above their heads.

“We’re married,” Dan said suddenly, pulling Phil from his thoughts.

“What?”

“Look.” Both him and Dan were swinging at the same height. “We’re married.”

“You’re such a dork, Howell.” Phil jumped off the seat mid-swing, landing on the balls of his feet.

“C'mon honey, can’t we sort this out?” Dan said from behind him, swinging so hard Phil was afraid the whole set would tip over.

Phil watched in awe as Dan, tongue between his teeth in concentration, jumped off the swing and posed like a gymnast.

A giggle accompanied Phil’s eye-roll. “Alright. Where to now?”

Dan brought his finger to his pink lips in concentration. “Fletcher Worthington’s house.”

“What’re we going there for?”

Dan opened the passenger side door and jumped in, resting his feet on the dashboard. “D'you remember in year nine when he pinned you up against a locker and called you a faggot?”

Phil inwardly winced at the memory. “Yeah. All too well.”

“That’s why.” Dan opened the rucksack that was now on the floor of the car, rummaging through its contents. “Also, he sexually harassed Kathy Rossendale at some stupid fucking party right in front of me. Like, what kind of soulless bastard doesn’t treat a girl like a human being? Especially in front of an ass-kicking feminist like myself.”

“So, am I supposed to be your accomplice to murder or …?”

“No, no,” Dan said, a dimple growing in his cheek. “We’re just gonna fuck with him a bit.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s gonna be illegal though.”

Dan chuckled, his smile reaching his ears. “What kinda payback would this be if not even something was a bit illegal?”

—

Phil pulled up to the Godzilla of a house. If an asshat like Fletcher didn’t ruin the aura of the place with his presence, Phil might even call it pretty.

“So. What now?” Phil asked, his leg bouncing with anticipation.

Dan pointed to something next to the house. “You see that tree over there? That’s where Fletch’s bathroom window is. I got this –” He pulled out a bottle of hand lotion.

“What’re you gonna do with that?” Phil didn’t quite understand where Dan was heading with this plan.

“Fletch is one of those blokes that make me believe chronic masturbation is a thing. Every time he’s buzzed he’ll talk about his dick lotion and how it makes him super sensitive – but that isn’t the point. The point is, this is my mother’s hand lotion. When I was sixteen I gave some guy a handjob using this stuff and he said it felt like a first degree burn.”

“So, you’re gonna sneak into Fletcher’s bathroom and replace his lube with hand lotion?”

“Exactly.” He jumped out of the car, gripping the lotion bottle in his right hand. “But I need your help.”

“What? Why?”

“Because he hurt you too, Phil! C'mon, don’t tell me getting sweet revenge doesn’t turn you on even a little bit.”

Phil scoffed, but unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out of the car.

Dan reached the window first, and opened it without hesitation.

“You’d think a big fancy house like this would have locks on the windows,” Phil muttered, climbing through the small opening behind Dan.

“They do. I came here after school to prepare.” Dan shot him a wink.

“What would you have done if I said no to coming along with you?”

Dan rummaged around the cabinets, pulling out a large, clear bottle filled with a thick, white cream.

“I would’ve made you say yes, obviously.” He unscrewed the cap and began pouring in the chemical-smelling lotion.

“That smells toxic,” Phil said, blocking his nose and trying not to gag. “He’s definitely gonna notice the difference.”

“Best part about this: Fletch got a sinus infection and can’t smell a thing.”

“Of course.”

Dan pulled a small silver cylinder from his pocket. After unscrewing the cap, Phil realized it was a stick of bright red lipstick.

“Wait, Dan, what the hell are you doing?” Dan turned to the medicine cabinet’s mirror and held the stick against his reflection.

“All good art has a signature,” he said with a smirk.

Before Phil could say anything else, Dan had already scribbled a phrase in his messy yet unmistakable scrawl.

Jerk off to this, asshole.  
-djh

“Oh my God,” Phil whisper-shouted, his heart pumping so fast he could feel it in his ears. “He’s gonna know we were here!”

“Phil, Phil,” he said, his voice gentle. He gripped Phil’s shoulders. “The whole idea behind revenge is that you know where it’s coming from. Plus, we haven’t hung out in years, he’ll probably just think I pissed in his sink after getting a bit drunk.”

“Okay … but what’s with the bright red lipstick?”

Dan chuckled. “I want everyone to know I’m not kissing up to anyone anymore.” He pocketed the makeup. “Also, I thought it’d be very teen-movie-esque.”

Phil heard a shuffling from behind the bathroom door.

“Shit.” Dan headed for the window, but the door was already opening. Fletcher seemed to be half-asleep before he realized that there were two random people in his bathroom, and that he was butt-naked in front of these two strangers.

“Howell, you piece of –” A flash of light blinded both Phil and Fletch, and before Phil could comprehend what was happening, he was being dragged out the bathroom window and began sprinting to his car.

“Drive, drive, drive!” Phil hadn’t seen Dan so exhilarated in his life. And it’d been so long since he’d seen a real smile from him.

“Oh my God!” Phil exclaimed, his smile beginning to hurt his cheeks. “My heart is racing so fast, I can feel it in my fingers.”

“Dude, I got a great pic of his tiny little penis …” Dan reached his arm over so Phil could see the screen. It was, in fact, the smallest dick he had seen in his life.

“That was brilliant.” He allowed himself to calm down from his high. “But isn’t he gonna murder me when he sees me at school?”

“Oh, don’t worry. This tragic dick pic is your safety net.”

Phil continued driving, not sure where exactly he was going, but excited to see where he would end up.

“I haven’t had this much fun since … well, I haven’t had this much fun.”

Dan giggled and tugged at his curls. “You’re right. This is so much better than pretending to be perfect for people that won’t even matter in a few years.”

Phil couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “Where to next?”

“Do you know where Erica Juarez lives?”

“I think so …” Phil kept his hands on the steering wheel, adrenaline coursing through his veins. “What did she do to you?”

“Nothing, really. She just tried to convince me that I shouldn’t be a feminist because 'all feminists are man-hating, hairy lesbians’.”

Phil giggled. “So are we going to give her a lecture, or …?”

Dan reached into his bag and pulled out half a dozen paperback books. Bad Feminist, Cunt, and Fight Like a Girl were only a few of the titles Phil could make out before he put them back in the rucksack.

Phil shook his head. “You sure are into this, Howell.”

Dan sent him a goofy smile. “I just think everybody should be treated like human beings. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Phil pulled up to Erica’s driveway. Instead of walking in, as Phil thought Dan would, he just stuffed the small library of books in her mailbox and wrote something in his red lipstick on its side.

Educate yourself.  
-djh

Phil began driving again.

“I need a smoke break.” He got the cigarettes from his bag. “Have you ever tried one?”

Phil shook his head.

“Phil Lester, let me introduce you to this beautiful thing called a cigarette.” Dan flicked his lighter, and the small flame that erupted from its tip engulfed the end of the cigarette in embers. Dan took a breath in, held it for a few moments, and let the smoke out of the cracked window beside him.

He handed it to Phil, who took it with shaky fingers. He brought the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled, only for it to be interrupted by an abrupt cough.

“Took me a while to get used to it too,” he said, bringing it back to his lips. He inhaled again, almost turning the entire cigarette into ash with one puff.

After he was done, he pulled a Tupperware container from his bag. On the cover was a sticky note that read:

Enjoy.  
-djh

“What’s this for?”

“I baked my mom a cupcake.”

“I thought she was a mega bitch?”

“Oh, she is. That’s why I put ipecac in the batter.”

Phil’s azure eyes widened in astonishment. “Jesus Christ, Dan.”

“It’s not gonna kill her or anything. God knows, she used to bottle feed me this shit.”

“You’re joking.”

“Why do you think I was so skinny as a kid?”

“Holy fuck.”

And so Phil kept driving until he reached Dan’s house.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, carrying the container in his hands. He returned only a minute later, but this time their departure wasn’t as euphoric as it had been before.

Phil waited to start the car up again. “So. What other surprises do you have left in that magic bag of yours?”

Dan seemed to ignore the question. “Have you ever been to the Shard?”

Phil chuckled and rolled his eyes. “No. I have a personal vendetta against that ugly hunk of metal.”

“Anyway,” he continued, “I have a key to the top floor.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Dan sent him a wink. “D'you hate it now, Lester?”

“How the hell’d you manage that, though?”

Dan scoffed, as if the answer was obvious. “Let’s just say I know how to please a certain security guard …”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Is that another one of those things you’re proving to the world tonight? That you’re not a virgin?”

“Nah.” He shook his head lightheartedly. “This is about the fact that I’m not straight.”

—

Dan held open the glass doors, waiting for Phil to wipe the grimace from his face.

“I don’t get what’s so bad about it,” Dan muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I just …” Phil thought about it. “It’s ugly.”

Dan shook his head, but pulled Phil into the opulent building by his wrist.

“Hey Marcus.” He sent the man behind the desk a wink.

“Dan.” He tipped his hat and sent Dan a smirk. “Who’s the kid?”

“Oh, him?” Dan laced their fingers together and held up their entwined hands. “This is my husband.”

Dan tugged their interlocked hands and brought Phil to an elevator, where he inserted a key card into the slot next to the large array of buttons.

“Husband, eh?” Phil teased, nudging Dan in the shoulder. Their hands were still touching.

“I told Marcus I was twenty-four and had a family in the city.”

Phil giggled. “Marcus the homewrecker …”

Dan rolled his eyes, and the elevator chimed. The metal doors slid open, and Phil couldn’t help but ogle in awe at the sight.

The walls around them were made entirely of glass. The city of London lay beneath them, a simultaneous melody of busy and quiet. Skyscrapers twinkled like stars in the horizon.

“This is beautiful.”

Dan released his grip on Phil’s hand. He took a seat in one of the office chairs surrounding a long metal table.

Phil remembered what Dan said earlier. “So, how’s sitting at the top floor of the Shard gonna prove to the world that you’re 'not straight’?”

Dan held his head in his hands, his cheeks red with blush. “Okay. Do you remember like, seventh year, when I joined the soccer team and I never came over anymore?”

Phil felt the emptiness of 6 years stir in his chest. “Yeah.”

“So, I never really liked football. You knew that – I always complained about how football matches were so overrated and stuff. But, one night, when I got back from your place, I asked my mum if boys could like boys. She went crazy, kept telling me I was going to hell and whatnot. She made me stop seeing you and signed me up to the football team, hoping that getting into sports would like, 'cure’ my homosexuality or something. And, I know I could’ve reached out to you and explained myself, but … I was just so ashamed. I didn’t know back then that liking boys was okay. I thought I was like, a defect, or something. So I tried to repress it. I tried to be that 'perfect’ kid everyone wanted me to be. I’d see you at school and think, 'wow, I wonder how Phil’s doing. I wonder if he misses me like I miss him’. But I couldn’t say anything, because my mom would somehow find out and send me to like conversion therapy or something –”

“Dan,” Phil said, placing his hand over Dan’s slightly trembling ones. “Being gay doesn’t mean you’re broken.”

“Well I know that now, of course.”

“So why’re you telling me all of this?”

Dan took a deep breath in, and his chestnut eyes met Phil’s.

“I asked my mum if boys could like boys because I liked you.” Another deep breath. “Like. You.”

“Oh.” Phil kept his eyes on his clammy fingers. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was laced with worry. “I shouldn’t have – this was a bad idea –”

“No, Dan.” Phil mustered up every ounce of courage he could manage. “I like you, too. In fact, I’ve liked you since we were kids.”

The ghost of a smirk rested on Dan’s freckled face. “Yeah?” Dimples caved their way into his cheeks. “Prove it.”

And so Phil leaned in. He could feel his blood pumping through his chest and in his ears and throughout his entire body, and he could feel Dan’s too. Their lips met, chapped and rough from the December air. Phil could’ve sworn his heart stopped right then, and the two boys became one flesh. One bundle of emotions and overthinking and uncertainty.

Dan Howell. Yes, he was pretty, he could play the piano the way he could play heartstrings, he could dribble a football on his knees for the length of the field, he was an amazing kisser; but he wasn’t perfect. People aren’t perfect. People are people. They shouldn’t be treated as gods. They shouldn’t be treated as anything less than human.

Dan Howell wasn’t perfect. But if there was one thing he was, it was extraordinary.


End file.
